So, You're not press?
by Hetshepsit
Summary: Oliver WoodViktor Krum. I felt that there was a lacking of this....well, RR. Hope you like. Edit Holy crap, this is an old story. Want to see what my writing used to be like? Check it out!


_WOOT! my first one shot...trust me, they will get better!  
No, I DON'T own HP...nor any of its affiliates...damn, I wish I did.  
Dedicated to Stan; dude, you're my HERO!!!!_

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I was the luckiest boy ever. I was in my prime; just graduating and already signed onto a national team. I got through seven years of school without anyone knowing what I was...a queer. My childish crush on Harry ended swiftly after school, even though I did feel a tug at my heart when I saw him at the cup.

I was elated to go to a Quiddich World Cup; I was more elated to see my hero. Photographs of him adorned my bedside. I would stay up late in the night staring, turning red upon occasion. At first, I wanted to be just like him, but something in my mind began to think of him more than a world famous star, but as a very attractive man. But of course, he would never go for a weakling like me...would he? I kept myself up at night, wondering.

As a member of a national team, I got to go to the press conference the day after the match. To be honest, I was more exited about getting the chance to meet him than to see him play.

The match was spectacular; how could it not be? I barely concentrated on the game, but I watched him fly. Twice he flew right over me, once he looked back at me! I nearly melted; his eyes can pierce your soul, even if only for a brief second. I smiled and he smiled back before he flew off again. I stayed up late after the match, my friends and I drinking. I went to bed after my drunkest friend (at one point I fancied him as well) poured a glass of scotch over my head. I didn't sleep well, or long. I was up at 8:30. The bags under my eyes were thick, and black, like I was a Goth. Thank GOD for magic, otherwise I would have smelt like stale scotch and sweat. I was in the shower for an hour trying to get the smell of liquor out of my hair. Half a bottle of shampoo later I gave up. I light aroma of alcohol remained. I had brought my foundation to cover my bags. I usually didn't wear makeup, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I only had two things; blush for if I was too pale (luckily that wasn't a problem...my skin was pink from eh hot water) and foundation if I looked either too dark or overtired. Over the years I had perfected makeup and was as good as any teenage girl. I combed my hair artfully over part of my face. It gave me an air of mystery. I brought along my most flattering jeans. They were loose in all the right places, and tight in others. I wore my team sweater.

At 11:30 I wove my way to the tent which was set up near the pitch for a lunch and a press conference. I was too nervous to eat. Instead, I sat in the back corner at a table for two, sipping on a coffee. I sometimes would catch his eye, but I would turn my head down.

"You look lonely." A voice behind me said. I recognized the voice.

"Tired is all."

"I know the feeling."

"Please, sit down."

He pulled up a chair "Viktor Krum."

"No need for introductions on your part. I'm Oliver Wood by the way."

"Oliver...Vell, formalities are nice."

I laughed, more like giggled, he smiled. We both sat in silence.

"Uhhh...Ready for the press conference?" I asked, the words sounded stupid, but it as better than silence.

"Oh...Yes I guess. I haff never liked press. They make stuff up."

"I'm dreading press..."

"Publicity is awful." Viktor mussed "the tabloids once said I was getting married."  
"I take it as your not."

"Me, get married, I don't think so...if I did; the press vould love it."

"Didn't I read somewhere that you had a girlfriend?"

"Mashka? No, she is my cat."

"Your cat?" I was dumbfounded. He nodded with a smile on his face.

"Mashka my little Russian Blue..."

"Russian blue?"  
"The type of cat she is."

"Oh, I see..."

"Vould you like to see a picture?"

"Sure"

He pulled out a photograph of a cat, stretching.

"She is beautiful, no?" Viktor asked

"Very"

"She is the only female that vill put up with me."

"What do you mean?" I looked up at him, but he looked away.

"Haven't you heard...?"  
"Heard what?"

"I just broke up vith Troy over there..."

My heart rose to my throat.

"You...you're gay?"

"Don't sound so shocked...I hate it vhen I tell people and they hate me."

"No, I don't hate you. It's brave of you to tell someone you just met."

"Oliver...I feel like I've known you forever. I don't know vhat made me come over...oh, look at me, I'm ranting again. You probably haff a girlfriend."

"Nope." I smiled

"That doesn't make any sense. Look at you...you're..."  
"A queer." I finished for him

"That's vhy I came over...I thought you vere."

I smiled, he was about to ask me something, when a reporter mounted the stage. "Now that we have all been fed, I'd like to welcome the Irish national team and Bulgarian national team!"

The crowd applauded. "That is my cue." Viktor said "vait for me?"

"Course..." I said.

I didn't pay attention at the conference. I was looking at Viktor, who occasionally caught my eye and smiled back.

After two hours he came back over to our table. "Vould you join me for drinks?"

"Of course."

He took me to his private tent. It was beautiful. It was in the style of a middle-eastern Harem. The gold and red silk billowed around.

"It's not much." Viktor said "but it's my style.'  
"It's beautiful." I said; he turned red.

"Vell, I promised you a drink, no?"  
"Yes...you did."  
"Do you haff anyvhere you need to be?"  
"What do you mean?"  
"Vell, I vas vondering...would you like to come home, with me to Bulgaria?"

"Sure! Let me get my stuff. Come, follow me."

I lead him to my shabby-looking one-man tent. "This isn't much...but I like to be alone sometimes."

"I know the feeling Oliver."  
I quickly threw everything into my suitcases. I was happy I had left my pictures of him at home. I packed up my tent and he helped me back to his.

"Don't you have to pack?" I asked

He laughed "I haven't packed anything of my own since I became famous. Something I do not mind..."

He smiled and he led me to his fireplace.

"I hope you don't mind floo powder." Viktor smiled

"Not at all." In reality, I hated floo powder, but for Viktor I would do anything. Soon enough I was standing in a frigid room, Viktor soon followed.

"Velcome to my manor, I hope you are not too cold..."

"I'll warm up...don't worry." I said through chattering teeth.

"Follow me...the bar is down the hall."

We walked down the iced hallway.

"I take it you don't drink vodka..." Viktor said "I'm sorry, but that's all I have."  
'I drink vodka, on special occasions."  
"Vell, this is a special occasion. To Oliver Vood, vithout you, I doubt I vould haff enjoyed today."

"To Viktor Krum...the first person I've told I'm queer."

The house slowly warmed up, with blazing fires in every grate and a bottle (or two) of vodka. We were talking like old friends. Suddenly, a gust of wind roused us from our vodka induced laughs.

"Sounds like a storm is coming." Viktor said "You don't mind staying the night, do you?"

"No." I said

"Come, I vill show you to your room"

I followed the Bulgarian up two flights of hand carved stairs into a lovely room.

"Leave your things anyvhere..."Viktor said "...I..."he stopped and turned red

"What?"

"I hope you don't mind, but this is the only bed I haff...ve vill have to share.."

He was looking at the floor "Sure..." I said, not believing my luck. I stood there in awe, teeth chattering.

"You are still cold?"

I nodded

"You go take a shower, yes? Go varm up."

I was pushed out of his room and into the bathroom. The warm water was nice, I confess. In quite literally the blink of an eye my dream came true. I was ushered out so quickly I didn't grab any clean clothes. Deciding there was nothing wrong...i wrapped myself in a towel and walked back to his room.

"Vhat is this?" Viktor asked, laying down his book "Forget your clothes?"

"You seemed in a hurry to get me out of here."  
"No...vas I?"

"Don't play coy."

"Ve aren't playing anything...yet"

I raised an eyebrow "Oh?"

"Vell...i thought..."

"I'm intrigued." I looked into his eyes, suddenly, like a gust of wind had pushed him, he kissed me. It wasn't a long kiss, but a peck. He pulled away and pulled his legs to his chest.

"I'm sorry" he said "I didn't mean to...but..."  
"It's alright." I smiled and put my arm around him "You can trust me, I won't tell."

He smiled and looked up; he went to kiss me again. This time I was ready for it. This time I didn't let him pull away quickly, put felt his moist lips and my hot ones. They tasted like vodka. Slowly, he pushed me down. His skin felt cold on mine.

The wind may have howled outside, rain may have been pelting down upon the windows, but right then and there as we made love, I felt safe. I had never liked storms, but nestled in the silk sheets; wrapped in Viktor's arms I knew I was going to be safe. The next morning it was sunny. I slept late, Viktor was sitting in a chair by the window, reading. He was half-dressed.

"Vell, good morning sleeping beauty." He said as I woke up. "Sleep vell?"

"Yes, did you?"  
"Yes...vould you like breakfast?"

"Sure." I smiled

"You know...there vas something about you that drew me to you...and I'm fairly sure it's that accent of yours. It sounds so much sweeter when you are exited"

I laughed, I wasn't sure if that was a complement or not, but he smiled.

"Maybe breakfast can wait." I said

"Oh? Vhat do you mean?"  
I smiled at him "Come here...I'll tell you."

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_Hope you enjoyed it, Review please! More slashes to come soon. You can request couples if you want!_


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